Ultraviolet
by Flayer
Summary: AU, FEM!HARRY: Decades ago, Grindelwald fought against the world and won. Torn from a cushioned life as the half-blooded heir to the Black family, Isla must quickly learn the rules of a cruel reality she didn't know she was advocating.


**Summary: **Fem!Harry. Dumbledore never defected from Grindelwald, and the new world order has been established. A rising Dark Lord is biding his time in the Ministry machine, and in this war-torn world, Harry is brought up as the half-blood scion to the decrepit House of Black. One day, everything she loves is ripped away from her, and she finds her purpose in returning the world to its former glory.

**Disclaimer:** The HP series is JKR's and not mine. Anything original is mine.

**A/N: **This my twist on the fem!Harry. Please excuse any syntax/grammatical mistakes, I haven't written in a long while. If you find an error, feel free to pm me or Review, and I'll be more than happy to fix it. Another thing: I'm not british, and I've never been to England, so again, if something is off in the story, please tell me.

Some background for the curious, I've given my fem!Harry the name Isla, and she's around 16. I plan to eventually pair her up with someone, but I haven't decided who yet. Romance isn't the main focus of this story.

Rated **T **until it becomes **M**.

I know I have a bad record with not finishing my fics, but I'm older now, and hopefully, more disciplined. Also, this chapter is short, but have no fear, I plan to make them quite a big longer.

~**Valet**

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**ULTRAVIOLET**

Tonight, the sky was clear, and the celestial bodies shone bright. The houses along the suburban street were identical; brick walls, maroon doors, black shutters, and half-heartedly embellished with Halloween decorations. And it was on this road, that Lily Evans found herself in the precarious situation of running for her life.

The air was fresh with winter, but she felt hot.

"Come on mudblood, it's time to pay your dues!" A shrill voice sang into the black of the night.

The flesh under her skin crawled. Lily clutched the bundle tighter, and took off sprinting further into the neighborhood. Cigarette butts crumbled into dirty ashes under her feet, and old water that'd pooled from the last rain soaked her socks. The backs of her heels were clipped by the mad cackles of a woman that delighted in her own cruelty. She could feel the Death Eater behind her.

"I'm usually sent for more important things, but my Lord said you'd be a hard catch. You couldn't be that difficult if _Potter_ managed to get you!"

She had absolutely nowhere to go. The beautiful willow wand that Ollivander had given her was gone - broken, long ago.

Suddenly, there was a band of pressure around her stomach and she lost her breath. She groped around her abdomen and there was something rough - like a tree root, tightening at a scary pace.

The bundle was snatched out of her arms.

"What a cute baby. Shame she's going to lose her mother tonight." There was more laughter. It came from somewhere in front of her.

Lily was doubled over on the street, gasping like a fish out of water.

"Ple-ease-"

"Crucio!"

White-hot pain like she never could've imagined seared through her. As blackness took over her vision, she thought about how such simple words could inspire such magic to come forth. How it could cause so much happiness. So much suffering.

In the back on her mind, she hoped her daughter would be alright. If the child was anything like her, she wouldn't let fate decide her path.

**~:ULTRAVIOLET:~**

_Evening bathed the trees in honey light. There was life surrounding her, yet Isla couldn't hear a single sound. It was as if the whole world was quiet, lulling in a drowsy state like it had just come out of a nap._

_She had found herself in the middle of this forest, with no recollection of how she'd gotten there, or what her purpose had been. Oddly, she was at peace with the fact, which was unlike her. In the distance, she saw snow-topped mountains kissing the warm clouds._

_"Hello, baby." She turned around. Behind her was a woman with perfectly curved ruby lips, and very white teeth. Her voice was as dulcet as the forest. "Don't you recognize me?"_

_Isla furrowed her eyebrows. "No." The woman didn't seem dangerous, and surely, this place didn't even feel real. But she wasn't so comfortable as to offer her back to her._

_"I am your mother. Lily." In one graceful movement, the woman reached behind her head and pulled a crisp, white flower from her lustrous, scarlet hair. She offered it to her._

_Isla didn't know much about flowers, but she recognized it as a lily. She reached for it, and when their fingers touched-_

-In a bedroom on the third floor of the Ancestral Black Manor, a blood-curling scream rang throughout the house. The feeling of her racing heart pumping blood reverberated through her entire body. Her limbs were numb and shaking. Cold sweat drenched the sheets.

This was disconcerning. She usually slept like dead man.

Isla clutched the locket around her neck. The hypnotic sound of a serpent hissing caressed her eardrums. After a few moments, her inner workings slowed down. Nausea swept over her. But while her body was strife with exhaustion, some deeper part of her was energized. It was excited, and it felt ruthless.

She closed her eyes and smiled.

"Are you alright?" A deep baritone, smooth and rolling from hours of conversation, asked from the doorway. The shadows covered his tall, lanky form, but she knew it was Regulus Black. And he was dressed as primly and proper as ever.

"Just a bad dream," She croaked out. It was strange. It hadn't been a nightmare, but she had awaken like it was one. "When did you get home?"

"An hour ago." He walked to the side of her bed and sat down. With a wave of his hand, an orb of light manifested and danced from his fingertips to splay across the ceiling. She watched with amazement as the magic, something she had always taken for granted, seemed to come alive from nothing.

He sighed. "What do you want to know about her?"

"What?"

"Your _mother_," He said, saying the word as if it were some heavy burden. "When you were young, you woke up screaming like this often. The dreams were always of her. You would ask me about her; her favorite food, her favorite color. Of course, I had no idea. That, and your mind is wide open. I thought I taught you better."

She felt a spark of indignation. It was in the middle of the night; who _could_ invade her mind when she was safe behind thousands of charms and wards protecting the house, except for Regulus himself?

Prefering not to open that can of worms, she blurted out the other thing that was on her brain. Isla drew her eyebrows together. "I used to have these dreams?" Regulus gave her a stern look. She was silent for a moment, and then blushed. He'd always told her to gather the maximum from the minimum, and to not ask questions she knew the answers to for validation. It just wasted everyone's time.

"Your mother had committed high treason against the Ministry of Magic. As you know, she was a muggle-born. But she escaped from the reformation camps, and masqueraded as a pureblood for years until she fell in love with your father. She told him all of her secrets. Your father felt betrayed, and let the authorities know of her deceit. He had no idea she was pregnant at the time, and still doesn't know of your existence."

Isla sighed, and looked down. "You love telling me about how evil my mother was, don't you?"

Regulus twisted his lips into a dark smirk. "It's all I know."

"Why won't you tell me who my father is."

He clucked his toungue and shook his head. "Trust me, its better if you don't know. For your own sake, it will just upset you."

She narrowed her eyes into slits. "He can't be worse than my mother." Though she said this, she actually felt empathy for her mother. She hated her father for what he had done. He was the reason she was dead.

Sardonic amusement lit his pale gray eyes. "Maybe if you get me a good birthday present, I'll tell you. Anyway, get some sleep. Tomorrow is an important day." He stood up, and patted down her greasy hair. He screwed up his face in disgust, and looked at the now sweat-slicked rings adorning his fingers. "For reference, you look nothing like your father. Except for the hair." Then, he left, his footsteps light and soundless.

**~:ULTRAVIOLET:~**

With a careful hand, she maneuvered the small brush laden with eyeliner around her viridian eyes; a thin line of black on the bottom, and a thicker one on top, flaring out a bit when it reached the end. Taking a little silvery eye shadow, she pressed it down near the inner corners to give them the illusion of alertness.

She hadn't managed to go back to sleep after her dream. And today, Regulus was taking her to the birthday party of a high-ranking official. She hoped to impress some important people there.

Isla knew she couldn't rely on Regulus forever. As much as they both hated admitting it, the House of Black was nothing like it was a century ago. The great fortunes had been squandered, and she knew that if she didn't do something about it, the Black family would be nothing more than one of the many dark stains on history.

And to do that, first impressions were everything.

She internally shook her head, and started to comb her damp hair. She'd kept the conditioner in for half an hour. The raven mane smelt like roses.

A bottle of sleek-easy, a dusting of powder to her face, light rosy blush for her cheekbones and she was done. She smiled to herself in the mirror. Slight dimples appeared in the apples of her cheeks. Isla frowned and used to her finger to apply a bit more colored gloss to her lips.

She was vain as hell, and she didn't care.

"Dress robes… which dress robe," She muttered to herself, approaching the closet. The doors swung open as she moved closer, startling Regulus's kneazle who was watching her every move with narrowed mulberry eyes. It yowled and ran away.

"Circe, come back!" Isla called out half-heartedly.

Whatever. The damned thing always came back.

She chose a deep green one that matched her eyes. She slipped it on, and then put a black cloak over it with the Black family crest engraved on the latch.

Isla hurried down the stairs to see Regulus sipping some coffee out of an off-white cup with a chip on the rim. He looked just as he did when he came into her room last night. Except now he was holding a cane whose head was shaped like raven's. In the place of its eyes were sparkling amethysts.

"Let's go." She said.

"Let me finish my coffee."

She rolled her eyes, and went back into the foyer with no particular destination in mind. She looked up to see a crotchety old man looking down at her from one of balconies. It was Arcturus, one of the few surviving Blacks left.

He was dressed in pale night clothes, with a pointed hat on his head. The coot was glaring at her, with murder in his eyes. Regulus said he was mute, but whenever old Arcturus wanted something, he'd scream incoherently until he was given what he wanted.

Once upon a time, he had been a distinguished, charismatic man, or she had been told. Frankly, she thought the only reason he survived the wars was because no one wanted him.

She turned her gaze towards the wall opposing her. There was a portrait of Walburga Black, who just sniffled, crossed her arms and looked towards the upper right corner of the frame.

"Bitch." Isla said under her breath. She walked back into the kitchen to see Regulus standing up. Kreacher had his coffee cup in his tiny, greenish-grey hand and was dutifully washing it in the sink.

"Ready?" He offered his arm. "Tuck that away, would you?"

"What? Oh." Isla looked down at the locket. She put it inside her dress robes, so that only the silver chain was visible. "Not really." She mumbled, but she took his arm, and he apparated them away.

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**A/N** - Thanks for reading! :) The next chapter should be out soon, and it should be longer than this one.

Don't forget to Review ;P Nothing is more encouraging than seeing the number go up.


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